The Darkness of Man's Heart
by bluetoothpaste
Summary: My attempt at a Girl-On-The-Island fic, since they seem really popular.


**Yep, another LotF fanfic. I can't write fanfiction for anything except LotF, for some reason. Maybe because it's interesting to twist around? Plus I tend to get obsessed with stuff. **

**This is a Girl-On-The-Island fic. I decided to try it out—I mean, just to see what it would be like. It's **_**so **_**popular...**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own LotF. If I did, I could not rightfully call this a fanfic. **

Bethany-Anne Christine Josefina Cooper said good-bye to her parents and got into line to board the plane. Even though it was technically the boys' flight, Mother and Father had argued with the airport workers until they gave her a spot on the last flight leaving London. They couldn't risk leaving her here with the threat of a bombing looming overhead. The city was in danger, and Bethany was glad to escape it, at least for a little while.

She got in line behind a tall, red-haired boy and pressed one of her thumbs behind the strap of her backpack while simultaneously touching her carry-on to make sure it was still there. She was seventeen years old with startling amber eyes and warm brown hair. Running a hand through it, she regretted slacking on a shower last night.

The tall boy in front of her turned around and grinned. "You're not supposed to be here," he said.

"I know," Bethany grumbled. "The last plane already left."

The boy smiled wider. "This _is _the last plane."

"You know what I meant!" She glared at him and stuck her tongue out.

"Whoa! Watch out guys—she's a snarky one!" He held up his hands in a defensive pose.

Bethany had been called snarky before, especially by her many guy friends, but this one was trouble. She could probably take him, though—those self-defense classes weren't for nothing, and she was much more athletic than most girls her age.

"Listen, buster, you'd better stop it," she threatened.

"Or else?" The boy grinned again.

"I'll—I'll—" The intercom system interrupted her.

"You will now board the plane. Everyone get in a single-file line."

_We _are _in a single-file line, _thought Bethany as she and the others climbed aboard.

The plane was small, hot, and smelled weird. She found her seat quickly, hoping she wouldn't have to sit next to any of the boys. If the redhead was any indicator, they would all be extremely annoying and disagreeable. Might as well avoid that. She turned around, grabbed her carry-on, and tried to shove it into the overhead compartment.

Immediately she wondered what on earth her parents had stuffed in there. It weighed more than two full-sized trucks. Her arms wobbled and gave out, letting the bag smack her right on the head.

"Ow!" she cried, rubbing the sore spot on her forehead.

"Let me get that for you," someone's voice said over her shoulder. She turned to see an athletic blond boy about a year older than her.

She glared at him. "I can get it myself," she spat. She lifted the bag again and tried to shove it into the cubby, but it slid out a second time and fell to the ground. The boy reached around her and took the bag, lifting it gracefully and securing it in the box-like compartment.

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The first part of the flight was mostly uneventful. Bethany passed the time listening to her iPod and humming along to Yousei Teikoku's song "Last Moment". Sure, she didn't understand _all _the words, but she was slowly learning. The Japanese language had always interested her, and she hoped to be fluent soon. One of her friends was an exchange student and had been helping.

Bethany allowed herself to be pulled into the dark epic beats of the song. When the plane started to rumble and tilt, she had to pull out an earbud to make sure it wasn't just the song. But then she felt the deep vibrations and heard several of the younger boys start to panic.

The blond boy who had helped her with her luggage stood and started looking around frantically. He headed to the front of the plane and returned with a ghostly white face. Bethany pulled out her other earbud and stuffed her iPod into her front pocket. Her heard pounded in her chest. What was going on? She feared the worst for the small evacuation plane.

"We're crashing! Brace yourselves!" someone yelled. Bethany ducked behind the seat and prepared herself for the impact. There was a loud splashing noise as her ears popped and a bright light flashed before her eyes. The next thing she remembered was darkness.

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She was swirling through dark waters. They wound around her like an army of serpents, jerking her body around every which way. It seemed that her arms were being yanked from their sockets. Then, suddenly, something shone and broke above her, and she could breathe. She felt some kind of rod around her waist; it was unusually warm. When she looked, there was the redhead from the plane. Quickly, she closed her eyes, hoping he wouldn't notice she was conscious. She let him drag her to shore, where she lay on the sand for a while, just catching her breath. He sat down next to her, just watching. When he put his hands on her chest, she bolted upright. She had a feeling he wanted more than just to perform CPR.

The redhead jumped backward, surprised.

"What do you think you're doing?" Bethany demanded.

The boy just looked at her. "Nothing," he said. There was a pause. "I'm Jack, by the way."

Bethany waited for him to ask her name, but he didn't. "Well, I'm Bethany," she said finally. She looked over his shoulder to see more boys climbing out of the water and onto the beach. The plane was slowly sinking under the water. Her stomach turned queasy as she thought of some of the people who might still be in there, but everyone else seemed too preoccupied to notice.

She turned to Jack again, trying to ignore the horror of the situation. "So, how old are you?" she asked as casually as she could muster. Her voice still shook, but she thought that she'd masked it enough.

"Eighteen," Jack answered shortly. He got up and walked down the beach, checking on some of the other kids. Some of them looked really young—even as young as thirteen or fourteen. They were sputtering, coughing, crying, and lying there looking like they'd gone into shock. Only Jack and the blond boy who had helped her with her luggage seemed to have recovered (at least enough to appear sane).

Bethany turned toward the sea again—the plane was out of sight. Where were they? What would become of them? She wrapped her arms around her knees and sat there, trying to hold back tears.

**So, what do you think so far? I've been gone a long time, but I'm still not done with my other fics. But those are irrelevant to this one. Let me know if you like this, and if I should continue it.**


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